


I'd Probably Still Adore You

by Anonymous



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Breathplay, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, five times Brendan had his hand around Ste's throat, and one time Ste returned the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this bc I'm trash this ship is trash and I want to commemorate my completion of Brendan's storyline by posting trash. First chapter is tame but I'm expecting the following five to be nothing but filth with maybe some fluff bc I'm weak.

He realizes he wants it around the same time he realizes he wants _him_ , that skinny little thing with the side-swept hair and an accent so thick and grating you could hear the lower class on him. There should be nothing attractive about him. And there _isn't_ , he's just another baby from the gutter playing grown-up with his missus and his kids – one of which isn't even his _for fuck's sake_.

Dog shit in the bottom of Brendan's shoe, that's all he should be worth. But there's a feistiness there that has Brendan hooked. He's always trying to get a rise out of the little fucker, always trying to get those lips to curve into a pout that would look right at home around a cock. That's his best feature, that mouth. But his eyes aren't bad, and the cheekbones that make him look almost feline, and the arse he keeps sticking in the air when he bends down to pick up crates.

And that neck –

It's an unexpected revelation that hits him like a sucker punch. Ste is backed up against a wall in the office, eyes wide and jaw loose. He barged in at an inopportune moment, like they don't teach their kids how to knock in those council estates, and heard more of a phone call than he should have. He keeps stumbling over that thick accent of his, muttering _I won't say owt, swear it_ , like that means jack shit. Brendan threatens to put him underground if anyone finds out what was said on the phone.

_Bren-dun_ he keeps saying, and Brendan wants to get in his face and grit out, _there's no fucking 'u' in my name._

“We clear then, Steven?” he asks instead, and he knows he sounds like the big bad wolf, knows he looks manic around the eyes. The question is punctuated with his fingers on Ste's face, tapping his cheekbones like he's threatening to give him a smack. Ste just nods unblinkingly like taking his eyes off Brendan for a second will get him eaten up.

Then Brendan starts nodding too, and his fingers skim lower, _lower_ , until they're tapping Ste's neck. They still for a minute before wrapping lightly around his throat, and that's where everything goes a little pear-shaped in Brendan's head. Ste's stopped nodding and looks even more terrified than before, but Brendan's grip is so light it's barely there.

His hands look _good_ there. All big around that slender neck. They fit just right.

He pushes his thumb the slightest bit into Ste's adam's apple, a barely there pressure that draws a shuddering breath out of Ste. Ste's hands move up to tentatively wrap around Brendan's wrists, but they don't try to drag the hands away. They just rest there.

Fuck, that looks perfect.

He should break Ste's fingers for touching him. Instead, he drags his eyes away from his hands around Ste's neck and surges forward so they're touching from the tips of their noses to their foreheads. Ste hits his head back against the concrete wall and Brendan thinks maybe that'll knock some sense into him.  Ste tries to look away, but Brendan tightens the grip around his throat and forces him to face forward.

“No more barging in,” Brendan growls, and Ste's frantic nodding resumes. Brendan nods along with him, mocking and angry. And just like that, it's over. The pressure of Brendan's hands around Ste's neck turns into rough patting on Ste's chest. “Good lad.”

Ste scurries out the first chance he gets, face red and eyes wide. Brendan locks the door this time, and tries not to think about his hands on Ste's throat.

-

He fails, nearly makes a mess of his suit, and realizes just how well and truly fucked he is.

-

The next week or so is hilarious.

No matter what's going on, any time Ste knows Brendan is in the room, he hunches his shoulders like he's Quasimodo. Apparently, he doesn't take well to being jostled around by the throat. Imagine that.

Thursday comes around, which means that a perfectly fine weeknight is bound to be ruined by shitfaced uni students. Brendan would rather have the night off, but Cheryl is out and they're short staffed tonight as it is.

Everything goes relatively well until Steven fucks something up when he's working the bar. Some shrill-voiced blond is demanding her change and he's fumbling through the till like he's never used it before. Brendan saunters over slowly, rounding the bar and listening to Ste's profuse apologies over the pulsing music.

Brendan's right up behind him now, close enough that he could shove Ste's chest down on the bar and fuck him silly. That might be just a tad obvious, though. A little indecent. Not time for that yet.

“Problem, Steven?” he mutters, breath hot on Ste's neck. Ste startles and drops the change he'd collected, and Brendan scoffs. “Christ, what do I pay you for?”

Ste huffs, indignant. “You pay me to take orders and make change, alright, but we got nothing in the till. Go get me one of them rolls, yeah?”

Brendan stares at him. “Did you just ask _me_ to do _your_ job?”

“How's I supposed to know where they're kept?”

“Christ,” Brendan sighs. “What _do_ I pay you for? Fine, Steven, give this lovely lady a drink on the house since you've kept her waiting. I'm going to go get more change and decide how much of it is coming out of your wages.”

Ste huffs again like a child whining _that's not fair_ , but complies anyway. As Brendan walks away, all he can think about is the fact that Ste's not hiding his neck anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Brendan was right about Ste's lips, by the way. He learned that the first time in the cellar. That's not the only thing he learned, though. He learned that Ste can get off with nothing but a dick in his mouth and his own hand gripping the tent in his trousers. He learned that Ste's accent sounds a lot nicer when his throat is raw from grunting and working around a cock. He learned, to his disappointment, that Ste doesn't want to swallow.

All in good time.

Only once has Brendan touched his neck with _purpose_ since that altercation in the office. It was during that first staged kiss in his living room, when Ste was drunk and Brendan's hand was practically on auto-pilot. He hasn't touched Ste's neck like that since, though. Not even the first time when he had Ste in that tiny flat, or the second time when he took him home and wrecked him again.

And not now, not yet, with Ste on his knees in the middle of the office, fingers wound in his hair.

It's sloppy, which is to be expected from someone like him, but the way he looks blissed out with those Bambi eyelashes fanning across his cheeks makes up for it.  Watching him bobbing back and forth and trying his damnedest to take it all the way to the root has Brendan wound up and ready to blow in no time. The noises are just a bonus, these guttural things that Brendan can feel all along his cock.  For once, he's overjoyed that Ste can't seem to shut the fuck up.

Ste starts to lose his rhythm, though, so Brendan rocks up on his heels experimentally just to see how much Ste can take. He doesn't want to choke the boy, not like this at least. Ste just moans around him and palms at the front of his pants.

“Good lad,” Brendan mutters, raking his hand through Ste's hair.

It doesn't take much more after that, with Ste letting out little half whimpers every time Brendan pushes forward. He sounds obscene, probably doesn't even know he's making these noises. Brendan is so focused on gripping Ste's hair and trying not to miss a sound that it takes him a minute to notice the frantic motion of Ste's arm.

Somewhere along the line, Ste managed to get his cock out. Now he's stroking it hard and relentlessly, faster than the motion of Brendan's thrusts. Fucking shameless it is, and Brendan knows he's done for.

Since Ste is just going to spit it out, Brendan decides to try another tactic. He pulls out abruptly, startling a wet grunt out of Ste. There's a moment of disorientation where Ste's hand slows and his eyes slowly focus on Brendan tugging on his cock right in front of his face. He seems to realize what's happening quickly, though, because his eyes droop shut and his wet mouth falls open a fraction. It looks like submission, like he's begging for it, and Brendan is so fucking _gone_.

The left side of Ste's cheek and chin gets the worst of it. He looks fucking amazing with his face covered with come, all thick eyelashes casting shadows and swollen lips striped white. Brendan loses something of himself to Ste when he's like this, trusting and open and accepting of anything Brendan will give. That should set off some alarms, but Brendan can't be bothered to give a fuck when he's marking Ste up like he owns him.

Ste, being the considerate gentleman he is, waits to screw his face up in disgust until _after_ Brendan is finished coming all over it. “Please tell me you got a hanky or something.”

That startles a laugh out of Brendan. “Oh, I don't think so.”

He moves then, and grips Ste's neck just under his chin to tilt his head up. Ste looks afraid for a minute, and Brendan knows why. But he's not going to batter him. He needs Ste to know that it's alright like this.

Tightening his hold the smallest bit, Brendan angles Ste's head up so he can't look away. With his other hand, he drags two fingers through the mess he's made of Ste's face. Ste looks confused under his flushed face and panting breaths. He's stopped stroking his cock now, instead focusing wholly on Brendan's fingers sliding through the mess on his cheek.

Those filthy fingers tap against Ste's bottom lip, and Ste just looks at him like he's fucked in the head.

“ _Steven_ ,” Brendan warns, “Open up.”

There's a moment of tense hesitation, and Brendan very nearly breaks out a mocking pout and a teasing _pretty_ _please, Steven_ , but then Ste's eyes fall back closed and he tentatively opens his mouth.

“Atta boy,” Brendan growls, and pushes the pads of his fingers over Ste's teeth and across his tongue.

Ste's face twists for a second, probably in surprise at the taste. But then it falls slack again, and Brendan shoves his fingers farther. There's only a moment of hesitation before Ste starts sucking them clean.

Brendan's cock makes a valiant attempt to come back to life as he watches Ste bob his head back and forth. His movement is limited by the hand clamped around his throat that fits perfectly under his chin, but he gives those fingers the same care he'd give a cock.

Brendan drags his fingers back out and repeats the process until he's wiped up all of it. When he drags his fingers out for the last time, Ste pushes against the hand on his throat to chase after it, licking at the tips that are just barely still in reach.

Mr. _I-Don't-Want-To-Swallow-None-Of-That_ suddenly turning into such a slut for a taste of come is too much to handle. Brendan is falling to his knees before he even has time to think about it and replacing those fingers with his tongue. Ste moans appreciatively into his mouth and takes his forgotten cock back in his fist.

“Uh-uh,” Brendan tuts, smacking Ste's hand away playfully, “That's my job.”

Ste lets go of his cock immediately and wraps his arms around Brendan's shoulders. They're so much into each other's space that the only thing keeping them apart is the hand Brendan still has on Ste's throat. He can feel every hot puff of breath from every tiny shuddering moan spilling over kiss-bitten lips.

“ _Harder_ ,” Ste whimpers, and Brendan's half-gone brain misunderstands at first. He tightens his hold on Ste's throat before it hits him that Ste was probably talking about the hand on his cock. But when he presses his thumb into the column beneath it, one of Ste's hand moves to grip Brendan's wrist. He doesn't try to pull Brendan's hand away though, just holds it securely in place. It takes Brendan back to when he realized he wanted this, the way Ste held his wrist like a lifeline.

That was fear and self preservation. This is something else.

“That good, is it?” Brendan asks, redoubling his efforts on Ste's cock. Ste doesn't nod, just grunts out a cracked moan and lets his eyes slip closed. If Ste wanted him to stop, he would just have to tug the slightest bit on Brendan's wrist and Brendan would back off. But he doesn't, he just rolls his hips and grits out any tiny noises he can make.

As soon as Brendan lets up, Ste gasps out a broken moan so loud and filthy that Brendan fucking _blushes_ , right before coming all over Brendan's hand and shirt. He shakes through it, drawing in heaving, shuddering breaths that distract Brendan from the fact that he should probably be pissed about his shirt getting ruined.

He _likes_ this shirt.

Ste's lucky he looks like a fucked-out angel right now. There are spots of red in his cheeks and a hint of tears smeared around his eyes. And those lips, _fuck_ , Brendan shifts the hand around his throat to run a thumb along Ste's bottom lip and thinks he could get hard again when a tongue peeks out to swipe across it.

Ste looks completely _wrecked_ , but he doesn't look like a victim. Brendan doesn't understand that – how Ste can lay himself so bare and act like it makes him feel so free. He's handing all control over to Brendan, and they both fucking _revel_ in it.

Brendan is considering bringing his other hand to his mouth and licking off the mess that Ste made of it. Return the favor, something like that. Before he can, though, Ste is grabbing it and pulling it up to his own mouth like it's in his job description.

“Is that alright?” Ste asks. There's a little bit of saliva and come on his bottom lip and it's shining in the light of the office like a temptation.

“I thought you didn't want to swallow it,” Brendan teases, just to be a dickhead.

“Shut up,” Ste says, blushing at that like he didn't just get off on being choked. “Maybe I won't do it any more, see how you like that.”

Brendan finally gives and ducks in to suck on Ste's lower lip. Ste has to have a mouthful of tashe, but he doesn't seem to mind one bit as Brendan licks up the remaining mess they made.

“See?” Brendan hums. “Not bad at all.”

Ste doesn't look so sure. “Tastes rank though, don't it?”

That gets a laugh out of Brendan. He drags his sticky fingers through Ste's hair again, which is filthy enough from sweat alone that the saliva and come doesn't make much of a difference. It's been a long night for both of them.

“Amy and the kids in tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Ste says, voice rough. “Dunno why they wouldn't be, at least.”

Brendan grimaces at that. “Alright. Cheryl's out, but she'll be back round early.”

Ste looks crestfallen at once. Brendan thinks that maybe they can manage an early exit before the sun comes up.

“But _you_ ,” he continues, mussing Ste's hair up even more, “Need a shower. And it as it just so happens, so do I. What do you say, Steven? Come back to mine?”

Ste breaks into a grin, all impish and dirty, and nods. Brendan drags him back to his feet and hands him the office key, giving him an encouraging swat on the ass before saying, “Start locking up. I'll be out in a minute.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Ste says, flashing that grin that says he knows he's getting some later on. As he leaves the office, he runs his fingers along his throat with the grin still plastered firmly in place.

-

“Best be heading out soon,” Ste says. He's got a towel around his waist and another one ruffling his hair dry. It's the towel that Brendan was just using to dry off himself, and now Ste is rubbing it against his head like that's normal, like sharing towels is something they _do_.

“How come?” Brendan asks, though he knows perfectly well why. It would be _so_ easy to hook a finger in the front of that towel and drag Ste over to get him all messy again.

“Can't have your Cheryl walking in and getting an eyeful of my arse, now can we?”

Brendan caves, like he always does with Ste, and curls his pointer fingers around the top of the towel. “If it were up to me, I'd be the only one ever getting an eyeful of your arse.”

“Bit possessive, eh?” Ste says, but he's smiling. They both know that's stupid, since Brendan was the one who told him to chase after Rae. But they're both in a warm post-shower sex bliss, so neither wants to bring it up. Instead, Ste just bites his bottom lip and rolls his head back just enough for his mouth to be level with Brendan's. From here, Brendan can see the tiny bruise on Ste's neck. It looks right at home there, the perfect mark of ownership, and Brendan starts to think round three might actually be feasible.

“Does that hurt?” Brendan asks a little dazedly, and Ste screws up his face in confusion.

“What, my arse? Maybe a little sore, but nothing –”

“ _No_ , Steven,” Brendan closes his eyes so Ste can't see him rolling them. “Your throat.”

“Oh,” Ste breathes. He brings one hand up to rub gently at the small bruise blooming next to his adam's apple. It contours the shape perfectly, and Brendan hopes it grows into a blotchy mark that Ste will have to wear on display when he's behind the bar, when he's off playing normal with Rae and the kids. “It's alright, I guess.”

“If you want me to stop, just give me a shove or something,” Brendan starts to stroke along the mark, his hand covering Ste's. “Don't want to snap that scrawny little neck of yours.”

“Oi, watch it,” Ste _does_ shove him then, but it's playful. “I'm not scrawny. Just have a more compact build, me.”

“Sure, sure,” Brendan mocks, and retaliates by dragging him into some kind of bear-hug tackle that has Ste cackling outright and thrashing against his arms.  They hit a wall and Ste wraps his arms around Brendan's shoulders like he's trying to hug him into submission. Brendan lets them do this only because roughhousing is normal, it's something men are supposed to do. Never mind the fact that he and Ste are half naked.

Ste's giggles dissolve into a surprised grunt as soon as Brendan ducks under his chin and runs his tongue along the bruise. When Brendan starts sucking at the skin, Ste gasps out something that sounds like a moan, and _Christ_ , this boy is filthy.

“Brendan,” Ste wiggles in his arms, but the struggle is half-hearted, “Cut it out, yeah? Someone will see the marks.”

“Then make something up if they ask,” Brendan says, and bites down.


	3. Chapter 3

Brendan has had a lot of people in a lot of ways. He's put strong men down on their knees and had boyish men begging for more and making all the noises they thought he wanted to hear. A few were fun to keep around for a while, but most were out in no time. That was fine by Brendan.

He heard _I love you_ from some of them, but he never said it back. Not until Ste. Because none of them were even close to Ste's level.

That's right: _I love you_ is torn from Brendan's throat like a plea. For Brendan, it is the ultimate admission of weakness. For Ste, it's nothing short of an aphrodisiac. Brendan hits the wall and his hands squeeze Ste's arse to drag him close until they're not sharing space, they're creating space. It's a space separate from their individual identities, separate from everything outside of it. Here, nothing matters but Brendan and Ste. There is no dead Danny behind his eyelids or dead Vinnie in his dreams, no Noah and no Rae, no Seamus watching from the shadows.

In these moments, Ste shatters everything to make room for himself. He chokes the bad air our of Brendan's lungs and breathes his own pure air back in.

Part of Brendan is screaming _hit him, shove him, push him away for both your sakes_. But then Ste bites down on Brendan's bottom lip, and Brendan _does_ shove Ste. He shoves him back onto the couch and kisses him hard enough to drown that voice out.

“Come on,” Brendan grunts between kisses, “Bed.”

“Uh-uh, if we're doing it, we're doing it here,” Ste's eyes are bold and his jaw is set, and if that's the way he's going to be –

“Stay,” Brendan breathes, and bounds upstairs with the image of Ste wrestling with his belt as encouragement.

It takes Ste about five seconds after his trousers are pulled down to shove his face into the couch cushions and push his arse up in the air. Before Brendan manages to scramble back downstairs with a condom and a bottle of lube, Ste gets a finger inside of himself up to the middle knuckle. It's beyond obscene looking, and Brendan has to slow to a stop to admire the view with a low whistle. Ste just grins and spreads his legs as far as they'll go from his position on the small couch.

“Gonna let me do my job now, Steven?” Brendan asks, waving the hand holding the lube.

Ste hums and wiggles his bum a bit. “I dunno. Having a good time here by myself.”

“ _Steven_ ,” Brendan warns, and Ste just smiles all cheeky and full of himself as he slowly drags the finger out.

“All yours.”

“Damn right it is,” Brendan says, and bends down to stake his claim with his tongue. Ste grunts like he wasn't expecting it, but pushes back like he always used to when they were together without being _together_. Back when – how did Ste put it? There was still so much that Brendan _wouldn't deal with_.

How's this for dealing with it?

Ste doesn't seem to have any complaints judging by the way his hips are working backwards. He's biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger like he's trying to keep quiet. It doesn't make any difference, though. All of Ste's noises are these deep genuine things that come from his throat. Brendan probably couldn't keep him quiet if he tried.

He might be able to starve off the cursing by shoving a tongue in Ste's mouth, but his boy is stubborn. A flood of _fuck me fuck me fuck me_ breaks the dam soon enough, and Brendan is pushing slick fingers inside of Ste, hitting that spot that has Ste whining high in his throat and curving his back impossibly deeper.

It doesn't take much to make Ste fall apart. By the time Brendan is curling three fingers inside of him, Ste is bracing one hand on the back of the couch and one on the armrest as leverage to fuck himself on those fingers. Brendan has to wonder if anybody else has ever seen him quite like this, so unhinged and shamelessly gagging for it.

Brendan leans forward as he scissors his fingers, mouthing along Ste's shifting shoulder blades. He's put off for a moment when Ste starts to giggle. The giggle turns to a gasp when Brendan suddenly pulls out his fingers.

“Something funny?” he asks, rubbing the head of his cock against Ste's hole.

Ste just hums and says, “I forgot how soft your tashe is, it's well ticklish.”

Brendan snorts. “You know just what to say to get a guy in the mood.”

“Never said I didn't like it,” Ste twists his torso around and grabs Brendan's chin for an open-mouthed kiss. He gets plenty of tashe for good measure. “Now are you going to fuck me, or . . .?”

“You've got a one-track mind, Steven,” Brendan says even as he steals another kiss.

Ste breaks away to shoot Brendan a disbelieving look. “Your cock is poking my bum, what else am I supposed to think about?”

“Point,” Brendan says, and shoves Ste back down on all fours on the couch. It's not the best place to fuck, and they'd be much more comfortable upstairs in bed, but if Ste wants it here then he's getting it here. As soon as the condom goes on, Ste reaches back to line Brendan up. Brendan just slaps his hand away and soaks in the way Ste's lips curve into an impatient pout from where he's looking over his shoulder.

The first push into Ste feels a little bit like being punched in the solar plexus, but in a good way. All of the air in Brendan's lungs is forced out in one near-silent moan. There's no such silence on Ste's end. If he keeps this noise up, they're going to get the cops called on them.

“Shhh,” Brendan hisses, leaning forward to press his lips to Ste's ear as he bottoms out. “You alright?”

Ste nods his head slowly, like he's more interested in rubbing against Brendan like a cat than answering the question. Brendan nuzzles back in return, savoring the new texture of Ste's shaved hair. That's going to take some getting used to.

When Brendan suddenly draws back and thrusts in hard for the first time, Ste snaps out of his haze and grunts appreciatively. From there, Brendan's control frays until he's pounding into Ste with fingers gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Ste, being the good little bottom he is, moans appreciatively as he meets Brendan with his own backward thrusts.

It's fast and rough and dirty and exactly what both of them need.

Without even really thinking about it, Brendan reaches around Ste's chest to get a hand on his throat. It's perfect leverage to pull Ste's back flush to his chest, and Ste seems to be in favor of the new position if his broken cries are any indication. He turns his face and cranes his neck so that he can plant open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

“Say it again,” he's panting, mouth hot where it's pressed against Brendan's cheek. “Come on Bren, say it again.”

It's ridiculous. Brendan knows exactly what Ste wants to hear, but he plays dumb and keeps his mouth shut. The plan is to fuck Ste silly to the point where he drops it, but Ste's stubbornness wins out.

“Brendan, _please_ ,” he begs, and slaps one of his hands down right on top of where Brendan's is circling his throat. It's a simple gesture, practically innocent considering what other parts of their bodies are doing, but it completes a hidden circuit in Brendan's brain and kickstarts a sensation he doesn't understand. The Goldberg machine that makes up his brain finally reaches completion after years and years of explosive chain reactions: Brendan Brady is in love.

So he says so, because it's true.

“I love you,” he practically moans it out, and he's never felt more bare in his life. This is what Ste does to him, takes him apart and bleeds him of his insecurities. Nothing outside of this flat is worth a damn when he has his hand around Ste's throat, holding him up so they're flush together. They could be bending over the bar at the club for fuck's sake, it wouldn't matter as long has he had Ste arching his back and crying out wordless exclamations that mean more than all of the _I love you_ 's in the world.

He only says it once, but it's all Ste needs. Blunt fingernails dig into Brendan's hand as Ste lets his head drop backwards. Brendan fucks him at a punishing pace, and Ste takes every thrust like a champ. His dick is standing up proud and untouched since he's busy clinging to Brendan's hand and the back of the sofa, so Brendan takes pity on the poor thing.

As soon as he takes Ste in hand and starts jerking him hard and fast, Ste winds his fingers between Brendan's above his throat as well as he can manage like he wants to hold hands.  Brendan doesn't push down. He doesn't squeeze his fingers around Ste's neck with the hopes of leaving small bruises that will mar that perfect skin and _force_ Ste to accept that Brendan is an irrevocable part of him. All he does is hold Ste close, just to feel the weight of his fingers and the pounding of his pulse.

When Brendan comes undone, he lets Ste's cock go in favor of wrapping his arm around Ste's middle and pulling him as close as possible. Ste gasps through the whole thing like he can feel himself filling up with come, like there's no condom at all. Every one of Brendan's grunts and tremors gets a pretty sound out of Ste that vibrates in his throat under their entwined fingers.

Brendan comes down from his high and gently unwinds from around Ste. The condom comes off once his breathing has leveled, and he feels like a god when he tosses it towards the bin and makes it in. He probably should toss it somewhere that Cheryl won't find it, but he'll worry about that later.

As for Ste, he's lying on the sofa on his back with his hand working fast over his cock. He runs a thumb along the fluid at the tip, and the wet sound of him jerking off is almost too much to handle. Brendan is tempted to just sit back and enjoy the show. Ste sure as hell has no problem with their arrangement. His legs are wide and his eyes are hot on Brendan.

It's fucking gorgeous. Ste is the kind of beauty that the old masters would have painted and framed in a museum, or written sonnets and declarations of love about. The other subjects would be lost to history in his shadow. Saint Sebastian, Antinous, Dorian Gray – fuck 'em. They don't have shit on the image of Steven Hay spread out surrounded by tacky furnishings with sex in his eyes and love on his brain.

It's so much, too much, and Brendan has to touch him.

“Come here,” he mutters, and sucks Ste down in one fluid motion. Ste's fingers go to his hair immediately, twisting in a way that would have had Brendan slapping his hands away back when this started. Now it feels right, like this is what he and Ste should have been all along.

Ste keeps the noises coming, whimpering out half thoughts and tiny encouragements. _There, Brendan, that's it fuck that's good you're so good I'm close don't stop don't stop dontstopdontstopdontstop_.

Anybody with ears or eyes should be able to tell that Ste is about to blow. Brendan pulls back just enough to tongue at the head of his cock and look him in the eye like he's saying _try me_. Ste immediately drops back onto his elbows and gives Brendan an answering look that says _let's see what you got, old man_.

Brendan drags his mouth back down until his nose is pressed into the hair at the base of Ste's cock. Now, he's no high class rent boy, but Brendan takes pride in the work he can do with his mouth. He presses his tongue against the bottom of Ste's cock and just _sucks_ , and that's it, Ste is down for the count.

Brendan has to pull back a fraction, but he keeps his lips securely fixed over Ste's twitching cock. Ste is loud through his orgasm, he always is, but it almost sounds like he's trying to prove something up there with his moans.

When the tremors die down and Brendan pulls away, Ste is on him in an instant. He kisses and licks his way into Brendan's mouth, eagerly lapping up what's left of his own come.

“When did you get so dirty?” Brendan asks. His mouth brushes against Ste's with each word.

“Learned everything from you, didn't I?”

Brendan smirks. “Good student.”

“Too right,” Ste says, and kisses Brendan again before rolling off of the tiny sofa in favor of sitting on the hardwood floor. Brendan doesn't blame him, he's surprised they didn't slide off or pitch over the back while they were fucking. Ste looks comfortable down there, sweat-dampened skin shining in the afternoon light and a contented look on his face.

It's so different from the anger earlier. He prefers Ste like this, all pliant and hazy with pleasure. But he wouldn't be Ste without that anger, and Brendan thrives on it. It's that fierceness that drew him in to begin with. Give him Ste with his teeth bared and his hands bloody and Brendan will still be screaming those three dangerous words in his head.

But Ste's not angry, not now. He's completely shamelessly naked sitting on the living room floor like the front door isn't unlocked and _fuck_ , somebody could have just waltzed right in on them, couldn't they? Brendan considers locking the door, but he's pleasantly sore and lethargic and Cheryl isn't going to be in for a while now.

Before he makes a move to join Ste, he gropes around for something to protect their dignity. Ste's shirt somehow wound up on the dining table. There are three socks scattered on the floor and one unaccounted for. Brendan's pants are in a heap that he's probably going to trip over later and – oh, here we go. Ste's boxers are flung across one of the arms of the couch.

“Catch,” Brendan mutters, and slingshots Ste's boxers at him by the elastic. Ste yelps on contact and Brendan just breathes out a laugh as he collapses right next to him on the floor.

“Wouldn't be laughing if you took my eye out,” Ste says.

“Please, Steven,” Brendan mutters as he shimmies into his own boxers, “We both know my aim is impeccable.”

Ste scrunches his face up. “That better not be a joke about you getting your stuff all over my face.”

_Your stuff_ , Jesus Christ. “I like to think I have more tact than that.”

Ste just makes another face like he doesn't so. He doesn't say anything, though, just shifts a bit so he's cuddled up against Brendan's side. Brendan lets his arm lie against the couch, which puts his hand in the perfect spot to stroke the side of Ste's neck. He can feel the weight of a headache coming on with the promise of the outside world peeking in through the cracked curtains.

He drags the pads of his fingers along Ste's neck and down across his collar bones until his arm is slung around Ste's shoulder. The outside world can go fuck itself for now, all he needs is right here.


	4. Chapter 4

A mercifully quiet Sunday evening is something that Brendan hardly gets to enjoy anymore. He's in Ste's flat – _his_ and Ste's flat – with a small stack of papers in front of him and a beer in his hand. Leah is at a sleepover and the mom offered to babysit Lucas, too, saying something about how brave and deserving of a break Ste and Brendan are.

Whatever the fuck that means.

The arrival of Ste bursting through the front door brandishing groceries and talking a mile a minute completely destroys the carefully constructed serenity. Oh well. Brendan got enough work done today.

They've been apart all day, so Ste has taken it upon himself to recount his entire day in detail. While he puts away the few groceries he got, he prattles on about how _I saw your Cheryl today she looked well I hope Leah and Lucas are behaving maybe you can take thursday night off and we can have us a night out you don't like thursdays at the club anyway is this milk off god I hope not I forgot to buy more –_

Brendan has completely abandoned his paperwork in favor of sipping his beer and grunting every few minutes to let Ste know that he's still listening, even though he's not. He stops listening entirely around the time that Ste swings around to wave a box of choco flakes like he's proud that he remembered them. Because when he turns back to put them away, Brendan's eyes catch the unmistakable outline of a dick against the loose material of Ste's jogging bottoms, and Brendan's attention span goes and fucks itself.

He thinks his mind is playing tricks on him at first – that he's just thirsty for it after an entire day of being away from Ste. But then Ste turns around and bends over to pick up the last bag, and the cotton of his jogging bottoms pulls perfectly over the shape of his ass.

Looks like somebody's been freeballing.

“ _Jesus_ , Steven,” Brendan huffs, “Where the hell are your boxers?”

Ste turns to look at him, coloring instantly. “What?”

“I was there when you put them on this morning,” Brendan says, “So why ain't they on now?”

Ste huffs and droops his shoulders. “Alright promise you won't laugh, because it was a right crisis. But you know how your briefs –”

“My briefs?” Brendan deadpans. “You were wearing my briefs?”

“Yeah, your briefs. They was clean, weren't they? Besides, we haven't done laundry in ages. I could hardly find clean trousers this morning let alone boxers –”

“You lost my briefs?”

“Shut up, I'm trying to say something. You know how your briefs get them little holes in them below the elastic sometimes?”

“You _tore_ my briefs?”

“Yeah, no, they was already torn, alright? I just helped them on their way.”

“And when exactly did this happen?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Ste says. “A little past noon maybe? I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have to.”

“So you didn't do it to. . .” Brendan pauses, looking for the least offensive way of asking this, “Titillate the townsfolk?”

“What?” Ste narrows his eyes, affronted. “ _No_! What do you take me for, some kind of hussy?”

 _Yes_ , Brendan wants to say, because Ste is nothing short of a slut when Brendan gets him alone. Instead of incurring Ste's wrath for the sake of a joke, he just asks, “Well, where are they now?”

“I sort of. . . Chucked 'em,” he admits, and Brendan rolls his eyes. “Don't give me that look! Not like I carry around extra boxers, do I?”

“No, you just destroy mine and flaunt yourself around town all day.”

“Excuse you,” Ste says. “I'll have you know it was freezing down there, alright. And it's not like anybody saw me taking them off, I did it in the bathroom.”

“Steven, you've been walking around all day with your dick trying to escape against the front of your trousers.”

Ste looks down. “ _Nooo_ , can't see nowt, can you?”

Brendan can't fucking believe it. “I can see _everything_.”

“Yeah, only cause you never stop looking, you pervert,” Ste grins and gives his arse a little wiggle.

“The fucking cheek,” Brendan says as he rises to his feet and strides the short distance of the kitchen. He. crowds up behind Ste, pushing in so close that Ste is sandwhiched between the counter and Brendan's chest. He noses behind Ste's ear and just inhales the scent of him. It's a habit that Ste used to call weird, but he never pushed Brendan away when he did it.

And he's not pushing him away now.

“Those were nice briefs, you know?” Brendan breathes into Ste's ear, biting at the lobe for good measure.

“Oh come off it,” Ste giggles, “You don't even remember which pair they were.”

Brendan scoffs in mock offense. “ _All_ my briefs are nice, Steven.”

“Can't be that nice if they were all holey,” Ste sounds proud of himself for that particular observation.

“First you bin a pair of my pants, then you show yourself off all day, now you're getting mouthy with me,” Brendan mutters into Ste's ear. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Planning on punishing me, are – _oh_ ,” Ste gasps just as Brendan lands a solid swat right on his ass.

“Bet you wish you had another layer on,” Brendan hums, grabbing a healthy handful, “Help ease the sting.”

“Yeah right,” Ste says, and Brendan can hear the grin more than see it, “Hardly felt it, I did. Losing some of your strength in your old age?”

“Now you're going to get it,” Brendan growls, tugging the joggers down by the waistband as Ste cackles and draws his legs together like he _doesn't_ want Brendan's fingers up inside him. He seems to like it when Brendan drags his blunt fingernails down to grab a handful of that pert arse. When Ste has been soothed enough to relax his legs, Brendan goes in for the kill.

“ _Oh_!” is all Ste can muster when Brendan's hand comes down hard on bare skin. It sounds like it stings, and Brendan would back off with a teasing remark then and there if Ste didn't start rocking back on his heels and wiggling his bum a bit, begging implicit in his body language even when speech fails him.

Well alright then.

“Like that, do you?” Brendan asks, and brings his hand down again, and again and again until Ste's backside is a lovely shade of pink and his knuckes are white on the counter. He's gasping and pushing back to meet Brendan's hand each time. Each stinging smack gets an amazing sound out of him, all these deep grunts and breathy whines.

Brendan decides that's enough, and splays his fingers wide across Ste's throat to pull him back so that they're flush. Ste's sore bottom is pressing right up against the erection straining in Brendan's pants, thick and hard and just begging to burry itself inside Ste.

“That last one stung,” Ste pouts.

“Aww, want me to kiss it better?” Brendan teases.

Ste hums. “If you want. I'd rather you fuck it better, though.”

Brendan lets his head fall forward onto Ste's shoulder as Ste laughs. “Jesus, do you even think about the shit that comes out of your mouth?”

Ste is twisting in Brendan's arms, flashing that shit eating grin with his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “So, are you gonna, or what?”

“Bed,” Brendan commands, and lands one more swat on Ste's tender skin before Ste manages to pull up his jogging bottoms and shuffle quickly to his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom, Jesus that's going to take some getting use to.

Brendan doesn't follow him immediately. He knows keeping Ste waiting will just make him even more desperate, and desperate Ste is fun Ste. Instead, he mills around the kitchen a bit, organizing his paper work, putting away the remainder of the groceries, clattering about so Ste can hear him. He's finishing the last of his beer when he hears what he's been waiting for.

“ _Bren_ ,” Ste groans, and Bredan knows he's touching himself, “Quit being a prick and get in here before my dick explodes.”

Charming as ever.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Brendan calls back.

“I _am_ waiting,” Ste returns, and Brendan smiles at the pout he can hear in that voice. He decides that Ste's had enough, and walks down the hallway to the bedroom.

Brendan crosses his arms and leans against the door fame when he gets there, taking in the view in front of him. Ste is face down in the middle of the bed, bottle of lube opened and threatening to tip on the bed, arse in the air and joggers pulled down just low enough for him to get his fingers up inside him. There's something about the way those trousers sit at the spot where his arse meets his thighs, showing nothing but the swell of his ass and his fingers in his hole.

Even without trying, Ste is an amazing tease. His fingers are working slow, stretching himself out as he pushes them in up to the knuckle. It takes Brendan a minute to realize that Ste is gazing at him from over his shoulder.

Their eyes finally meet, and Brendan grins. “You don't waste any time, do you?”

Ste gives him an absolutely whithering look. “Not like you were taking the initiative, alright.”

“Let me make it up to you,” Brendan says as he crawls onto the bed, voice low and sickly sweet. He's laying it on thick, so thick that Ste cracks up and removes his fingers in favor of smacking Brendan with the pillow. Brendan catches it before manhandling Ste onto his back.

“You know,” he drawls, curling his fingers in Ste's waistband where it's encircling his thighs, “I think I like these best when you wear them like this.”

“You complain about blokes with their pants hanging out all the time,” Ste accuses, lightly shoving Brendan's chest with his foot.

“You're not wearing pants, though, are you Steven?” Brendan leans in close, pushing Ste's knees up close to his chest as he kneads those pale thighs.

“You're obsessed,” Ste says.

“With you?”

“With my bum.”

Brendan laughs before he can stop himself, and retaliates by spanking Ste one more time. Ste grunts and recoils a bit, undoubtably sore, but melts with a sigh when Brendan trails his thumb farther down to rub at Ste's hole. There's enough lube still left there that he can push in without much resistance, and Ste practically purrs when Brendan sinks in to the second knuckle.

“Hand me the lube,” Brendan breathes. “And get out of these fucking clothes.”

“Thought you liked them on me,” Ste says, shoving the lube into Brendan's hand and wrestling with his shirt. Brendan helps the process along by _finally_ peeling those jogging bottoms up and off Ste's legs.

“Yeah well,” Brendan says, dipping in close to press kisses along Ste's fluttering stomach, “I happen to like them a lot more off of you.”

Ste snorts and rolls his eyes. “Good pickupline, that. Think I used it on Amy once.”

“It's not a pickup line if you're already in my bed, Steven,” Brendan says, and pushes two slick fingers into Ste's hole. Ste drops the sass in favor of moaning appreciatively. Brendan loves how he looks when he gets like this, eyelashes catching in the lamplight and beautiful mouth open wide. Though those lips aren't quite right, not red and wet enough. Brendan decides to fix that.

The first kiss is just a nip on Ste's bottom lip to get his attention. It doesn't take long for him to get his head in the game, soon propping himself up on his elbows to kiss Brendan as hungrily as he can. Brendan manages to sneak a third finger in mid-kiss, and it startles a gasp out of Ste that makes their kisses open-mouthed and even filthier.

When Brendan slows the motion of his fingers and pulls back, he's satified with the mess he's made of Ste. Those lips are finally a nice deep red, and wet enough to shine a little in the low light. There's a flush on his gently heaving chest that Brendan can't resist, has to bend down and kiss and bite his way along that flat expanse of skin.

“Are you ever gonna fuck me?” Ste asks, rolling his hips faster to counter Brendan's waning pace.

“Remember what I said about waiting, Steven?”

“Yeah, and it were a load of bullshit, weren't it, because I'm still waiting.”

“Better make this really good then, huh?” Brendan says, and abruptly drags his fingers out of Ste. He revels in the gasp it draws out of Ste while he leans over and digs around in the bedside table for a condom.

For all his bitching earlier, Ste looks like he's never been more pleased. One hand gently paws at his dick as he watches Brendan roll the condom on from where he's lying flat on the bed. His legs are spread wide, toes curling a bit into the duvet, and _fuck_ , he's grinning like this is all he needs, like his happiness is directly correlated to getting fucked in the shitty lighting of his shitty flat that he shares with his precious kids and his shitty boyfriend.

And, well, who is Brendan to deny him that?

The first push in makes being apart from each other all day worth it. It's as if warmth becomes _heat_ , a sudden inescapable fire that curls around them and drags them together. Brendan can feel Ste's toes curling from where they drag up his sides before those hairy legs lock at the ankles around his back. After a few thrusts to ease in, Brendan grabs Ste by the hips and sets a hard rhythm.

It's just what Brendan needs right now, all rough and fast and deep. But Ste is restless, arching his back and tossing his head back and forth like he's got an itch he can't scratch.

“ _Brendan_ ,” he moans, “Can you . . . Will you just . . . You know, for me?”

“Gonna have to give me more to work with than that,” Brendan says, breath turning ragged.

“You know. . .” Ste mutters, and his bashfulness gives him away. Brendan knows just what he wants, but he wants something himself. He wants Ste to ask him for it, to give him permission.

“I think you should tell me,” he says, and Ste grunts in frustration.

“Fuck you,” he breathes, and grabs for one of Brendan's hand. He maneuvers it so it's above his neck and curls Brendan's fingers until they're enveloping his throat in a limp grip. Ste's eyes are shining, pupils huge and reflecting such an intense desire that Brendan isn't sure how he found someone so beautiful who wants him _this_ much.

They have rules for this now, for the sake of safety. If Brendan has his hand on Ste's throat, Ste has to have both hands free. If Ste tries to pull Brendan's hand away, then that's it, they're done, and that's alright. It's not about the struggle, not about holding Ste down and dominating him. To be honest, Brendan isn't sure exactly what it _is_ about. All he knows is that Ste likes it, and he likes it, so why not?

He has to be sure, though. “You want this?”

Ste nods his head, bites his lip. “Please.”

That's all Brendan needs.

It's hard to tell if Ste gasps or just draws in a preparatory lungful of air. Either way, the noise he makes when the hand around his throat tightens has Brendan snapping his hips faster immediately. Ste likes it like this sometimes, rough and quick with a hand holding him down by the throat. Sometimes he throws his arms out and twists his fingers in the bedsheets, but tonight he's got one hand around Brendan's wrist and the other digging crescents into Brendan's back with blunted fingernails.

Brendan lets up, and Ste is automatically babbling, asking for more and more and Brendan doesn't know why his dick is so into this, but now's not the time to analyze it. He gives Ste a minute, soaking in the pleas and grunts and sighs before scraping his fingernails along Ste's throat and tightening his hold again.

They're probably both a little fucked in the head in more than a few ways, but nothing affirms it like the way Ste bares his neck to a murderer. He tilts his hip and curves his spine, allowing more of Brendan into his body and rasping out tiny noises of pleasure. Ste doesn't know the half of it, but he knows enough, and he's still willing to put his life in Brendan's hands like Brendan is worthy to hold it.

Brendan lets up again and slows the pace of his hips until he's rocking gently enough to allow Ste to catch his breath. A tear falls from Ste's heavy lashes, and then another, and Brendan is leaning down to kiss Ste's red cheeks before he can think better of it.

“You okay?” he asks, lips brushing Ste's skin.

Ste only manages a rough _uh-huh_ at first, and his voice is so wrecked and uneven that Brendan is torn between concern and arousal. But then Ste leans up to kiss Brendan slowly and thoroughly. It would be sweet if it wasn't for the comfortable ache settling deep in both of their bodies.

When Ste pulls back, he beams up at Brendan, and all of Brendan's concerns flee. He tightens his legs around Brendan's waist and says, “You gonna get on, then?”

“Gonna be sore tomorrow, boy,” Brendan growls, and snaps his hips. His thighs are starting to ache from the constant movement, but he can't stop and doesn't want to change positions. He needs to see Ste's face contort when he hits that one spot _just right,_ needs that visual affirmation that they're okay.

Ste starts working his cock and wriggling like he's close to coming. Brendan feels the tiniest pang of guilt for leaving him hanging, but he loves to watch Ste make a mess of himself. There _is_ something he can do, though.

“You want it again?” he asks, and Ste immediately nods his head in encouragement.

“Yeah, yeah, if you'll do it.”

He'd do anything for this man.

Before clamping his fingers down, Brendan drags the nails across Ste's chest just to see the faint red marks they leave. His hand completely engulfs Ste's throat, and Ste tips his chin back to better accommodate the heavy pressure. Brendan's struck again with the amount of trust Ste has in him. In this moment, this is his throat to kiss and bite and squeeze and love.

Ste's hands leave his cock, opting to grip the pillow under his head instead. Brendan hoists him up with one hand on his thigh, angling harder downward and battering Ste's prostate on each thrust. He knows he's not going to last much longer and that Ste won't be far behind him, so he milks this moment for everything he can.

But then, the plan goes a little sideways.

Brendan releases his hold, and Ste's orgasm is suddenly dragged out of him. He starts coming and it's like it surprises him, like he didn't know it was _possible_ to come hands-free. Brendan is pretty fucking amazed, too, but his breathy sighs of _Christ, Steven, look at you, you're something else, so fucking gorgeous_ are lost to Ste's fractured screams.

Eyes shut and mouth wide, Ste looks positively _fucked_ as he arches his back like he somehow wants _more_ , like he hasn't had his fill even as his cock stripes his belly white. Brendan knows he's lost himself to this filthy beautiful boy. Ste's blue eyes fall open and Brendan is coming before he can even think, _I love you_.

A stillness falls in the space vacated by their satiated desire. Brendan's pulling air into his lungs like _he_ was the one getting choked. And as for Ste, he looks like he just reached enlightenment. His red face is tracked with drying tears, but his eyes are full of so much awe that Brendan almost laughs.

“Never done that before,” Ste says, casual as can be, and Brendan _does_ laugh.

“Well,” he murmurs, “You're full of surprises.”

Ste hums like a contented cat. “Ain't that why you love me?”

“Yeah,” Brendan says, and _fuck_ , he's going soft, “One of the reasons.”

“And the other's my bum.”

“Well, Steven,” Brendan grins, “You do have your assets.”

Ste rolls his eyes with a smile, doesn't even have the energy to laugh, and weakly shoves at Brendan's shoulders. “Carry me to the bathroom, will you? I'm all dirty.”

“Carry your own damn self,” Brendan says.

“I _can't,_ ” Ste flops back onto the bed. “You turned me all jelly.”

“Come here, you lazy bastard,” Brendan mutters. He kneels on the bed and steals a kiss before tugging Ste up and onto his feet.

In the bathroom, Ste somehow finds the energy to start a water fight. He flicks a handful right at Brendan's face, and that honking laugh comes back to him when Brendan pauses with his toothbrush bulging against one cheek and an exasperated set to his closed eyes. Brendan's retaliation is to flick his wet toothbrush in Ste's direction, which is apparently disgusting according to Ste, who thinks that a repeat of the first water flicking is hilarious.

Eventually, they just stumble into the shower together. It was _right there_ , and they were both naked already, so where's the harm? They don't fuck, but they do get soppy and stupid.

“If I gave you a blowjob right now, would you wash my hair?” Ste asks, and the twinkle in his eye makes Brendan think that he's serious.

“I don't think my dick has another go in it right now,” Brendan says, and Ste pouts. “But I'll wash your hair anyway.”

That lights Ste's face right up. Hair washing turns into body washing, which turns into Brendan finding any excuse he can to feel Ste up. He gropes his arse and pets his stomach and massages his shoulders. On that last one, his thumbs brush the base of Ste's throat, and Ste melts against him.

They hop out of the shower when the water starts going cold. Ste bitches about the goosebumps all over himself, so Brendan towels him dry. They fall into bed again and wrap around each other with warm bodies and wet hair.

It feels so domestic that Brendan isn't sure what to think.

This flat smells like fifty years of water damage and cigarette smoke. Brendan is pretty sure that the walls are thin enough that any human being within fifty feet heard Ste during his orgasm. There's paperwork for the club in the kitchen and cold beers waiting for him in the fridge. A nose is nuzzling under his jaw and a thick accent is muttering _g'night, Bren_ into the skin of his neck.

He's never had something like this, but he'd be damned if he gave it up for anything.

-

Ste is up and picking up the kids before Brendan's internal clock even acknowledges the fact that it's morning. He drifts awake to Ste milling around the bedroom at the asscrack of dawn and the sound of Leah playing in the living room. Steven is speaking in low tones, like he doesn't want to wake Brendan but doesn't want to shut up. That boy can't keep quiet.

Not that Brendan minds. It's comfortable. While Ste rattles on about everything and nothing at all, Brendan stretches his legs, cracks his toes, shuffles deeper under the duvet. But then he feels Ste's body leaning over his own, and that gentle voice is right above him.

“Make yourself decent,” he murmurs, lips brushing Brendan's ear. “I'm leaving the door unlocked in case Leah or Lucas need something from you while I'm in the shower.”

“You showered last night,” Brendan mutters into the pillow.

“I was _in_ the shower last night,” Ste says, “Don't mean I got clean, does it?”

“Steven, are you trying to imply that I didn't do an _amazing_ job at shampooing your hair?”

“Only the best,” Ste says. “Shame about the rest of me.”

Brendan grunts. “I wouldn't say _shame_ – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ste grins, “Just get some trousers on, alright?”

Once Ste leaves, Brendan begrudgingly crawls out of bed and shoves his legs into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shuffles into the kitchen and prays Ste bought some coffee yesterday. Leah's in the living room – still in her jammies. Ste must have picked the kids up earlier than Brendan thought. She runs over to him as he brews a cup of coffee and tackles his legs in a hug.

“Hey, Princess,” he mutters, and she immediately fires off on all the details of her sleepover. Brendan grins down at her and nods his head every once in a while. She might not be Ste's by blood, but he sure as hell raised her.  They could both talk him to the grave if they set their minds to it.

Then she scampers off just as quickly as she came, saying something about a stuffed toy Lucas stole. Brendan has the energy to call back with a deflated sounding _don't run_ before wandering back to the bedroom.

He sets both cups down on the bedside table right as Ste strides in, towel around his waist and wet hair dripping all over his shoulder and chest.

“Heard you talking to our Leah,” he says, “She tell you all about the party?”

“Everything and more,” Brendan takes a healthy gulp as he sits on the bed. “She ran off on a quest to find that creepy stuffed animal, thinks Lucas nicked it from her.”  
  
Ste laughs. “Proper delinquent, that one.”  
  
“Takes after his daddy,” Brendan says. Ste gives him a disbelieving look.

“Yeah, his daddy Brendan maybe.”

A pang of insecurity hits Brendan square in the chest, but he hides it behind a laugh. He gestures at the end table. “Here, drink this before it goes cold.”

“Aww, that for me?” Ste asks, picking up the cup and winking over the rim when he takes a drink. They fall into silence as Ste pokes around in his dresser. When he pulls out some boxers, _his_ this time, he unwraps the towel from around his waist so he can drape it on his shoulders.

The boxers go untouched while he looks for a pair of trousers. His ass is on full display as he bends slightly to root around in a lower drawer, and Brendan has half a mind to spank him again. Little tart.

“Come here,” Brendan says, and Ste casts a deceptively innocent look over his shoulder. Brendan waves him closer, and then tugs Ste to stand between his legs.

“Gotta open at the deli today, right, we don't have time for this,” Ste says, even as he smiles down at Brendan.

“You ran off so quick this morning that I didn't give you a wake-up kiss,” Brendan says, and plants his lips on Ste's sternum.

“I'm glad,” Ste says as he runs one hand through Brendan's hair. “Your morning breath is rank.”

“Your's ain't exactly roses and daisies,” Brendan glances up.

“Shut up,” Ste grins, nudging Brendan's shoulder.

“No marks,” Brendan observes. Ste gets a curious look about him, so Brendan clarifies. “On your neck.”

“You wanted to leave marks?”

Brendan shrugs. “They look good, don't they?”

Ste snorts. “Cheryl'd loose her head, thinking you were battering me again.”

“I wouldn't,” Brendan quickly says. “I won't.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ste says, bringing his hands up to towel his hair dry, “But you know what people would think.”

Knowing that even his own sister doesn't fully trust him to love someone without his fists getting involved stings, but it's what he deserves. He doesn't want to think about that now, though, so he grabs Ste around the waist and drags him down onto the bed.

“What are you playing at?” Ste laughs. Brendan tosses the towel to the floor and pushes Ste into the bedding with a hand on his throat.

“It should be pretty obvious, Steven,” he purrs, dragging his free hand up and down Ste's thigh. He rolls his hips against Ste's ass, not hard yet but not completely soft, either. Having someone rub their jeans all over your sore backside can't be pleasant, but Ste doesn't look like he minds.

“Gonna be late, Bren.”

“Maybe that's my intention,” Brendan says, just as the door opens and a squeal rings out in the room.

Ste is up like a shot, pushing Brendan over a little as he scrambles to cover his nakedness with the towel. Brendan follows him out into the hallway where Ste is staring wide-eyed down the hall with a stuffed monstrosity in his hands.

At least Leah found her doll... Thing.

“What do I say to her?” Ste stutters out.

Brendan shrugs. “You've always been good at coming up with covers at times like this.”

“Yeah that were for _adults_ , Brendan,” Ste hisses. “She ain't even had the birds and the bees yet, has she?”

“Now's a good a time as any,” Brendan supplies, and Ste rolls his eyes.

“Alright, you know what,” Ste hops into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt before he shoulders past Brendan, “I'll handle this, right, you just stay here.”

Brendan is pretty sure that Ste wants to handle it on his own because Leah might be a little spooked after seeing someone holding her dad down by the throat. Oops. It's hard to feel put out, though, as Brendan watches Ste stride away in the same jogging bottoms from yesterday.

There's nothing underneath this time, either.

 


	5. Chapter 5

In all their time together, they've never done it like this before: fallen asleep with Brendan sprawled over Ste's skinny chest, head nestled into the space between his neck and shoulder like he wants to be the little spoon. Brendan Brady doesn't _do_ little spoon. But it's New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day by now, and they're a little drunk, and they just fucked each other stupid, so they can't really be held accountable for their actions.

“Proper adorable when you get cuddly,” Ste teases, and Brendan retaliates by nipping at his jaw.

“I don't cuddle,” Brendan says, ignoring Ste's honking laugh. “Cuddling is un-manly and I refuse.”

“Oh, _sorry_ Mr. Mustache,” Ste says, full sass. “It's not manly to have a cuddle but it's dead manly to stick my dick in your mouth and talk about how much you love me.”

“Too right,” Brendan says, and snuggles closer. Ste snorts out another one of those laughs, but it's softer this time. It's the sort of laugh that rumbles in his chest, and Brendan loves the feel of it under his cheek. He plants a kiss there, skin slightly red and filmy with sweat after all the exertion earlier.

Brendan trails his lips higher, skirting his mouth along Ste's collar bones, kissing his pulse, and finishing at his jaw. Ste likes that, practically begs for more in the way he curves his body closer. Brendan scrapes his nails along the same path, stopping to curl his fingers around Ste's neck. He doesn't realize what he's doing until Ste draws attention to it.

“You always do that,” Ste muses at the ceiling. “Used to be dead scary, you know, way back when.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Brendan lies, and traces Ste's adam's apple.

“When you get all handsy with my neck, you idiot,” Ste clarifies.

“I get handsy with all of you.”

“Can hardly blame you,” Ste grins, “But the neck thing is weird.”

“Not weird,” Brendan says, suddenly defensive. “You got. . . It's a nice neck.”

Ste hums at that, and Bendan can feel the vibrations of it under his hand. “I used to think it was a control thing, you know. Part of why you liked smacking me around.”

Brendan cringes. “Do we really need to talk about this?”  
  
“No, yes,” Ste says, waving his hands around. “Shut up, I'm getting somewhere.  I think I got it now. I mean, it's weird –”

“You're the one who came with me choking you like twelve times, Steven.”

“– But it's not about hurting me, right, it's about keeping me close.”

That pauses Brendan's train of thought and potentially his entire life. He never stops to analyze why he is fixated on Ste's throat for the same reason he never stops to analyze why he is fixated on Ste's ass; every part of the skinny little fucker beside him is something to marvel at. Even that accent makes Brendan feel at home.

But now, with his hand resting on Ste's throat, he can feel life under his palm. Ste's heartbeat, Ste's breathing, Ste's voice rumbling gently as he speaks, it's all there.

“Alright down there, Bren?” Ste mutters, and Brendan realizes he's been quiet for some time. His head is all fuzzy with alcohol and _feelings_ , the kind of feelings he's not ready for now and won't be ready for in the morning when his hangover is ricocheting around in his head.

Instead of responding, he zeroes in on a spot just below Ste's ear that's notorious for being incredibly sensitive and incredibly _ticklish_. It just takes one obnoxiously wet sucking kiss and Ste is trying to drunkenly flail his way to safety.

 _Bren-dun!_ he squawks. He's laughing again, and Brendan genuinely doesn't know how that sound can come out of a human being. Brendan smiles into Ste's skin, right above where his thumb is pressing down just enough that Ste can't ignore it.

Brendan inhales the scent of Ste's neck and hums contentedly. “You smell like me.”

“I smell like booze, you silly git.”

“Really?” Brendan drags another deep breath in. “So exactly like me, then.”

“Yeah,” Ste says, “You and every other bloke tonight.”

“Awww,” Brendan pouts, pushing up a bit to look at Ste's face. “And here I thought I was special.”

“You are _very_ special,” Ste says slowly, like he's having trouble getting full words out. “Not like your ego needs more stroking.”

“No,” Brendan says, “But I can think of something else that could use some stroking."

Ste scoffs, looking absolutely scandalized, and Brendan just laughs. “Don't be cute,” Ste gives Brendan a tiny shove, “It weren't even clever!”

“Come on,” Brendan moves so he's almost straddling Ste. The new position shifts more of his weight onto Ste's neck. “You saying you don't wanna?”

Ste's eyes flutter closed as a dopey grin spills across his face. “I'm saying I _can't_ , you fucked the energy out of me.”

“I could fuck more energy into you if you ask nicely,” Brendan offers.

“Shut up,” Ste shoves at Brendan, “It don't even work that way.”

“Not with that attitude it doesn't,” Brendan says, and surges down to plant sloppy kisses wherever he can reach. Ste's initial reaction is to yelp like he's gripped with genuine terror, but that quickly gives way to wriggling arms and giggle fits.

They're flat out wrestling now, holding each other down and shoving each other around and getting their legs all tangled in the sheets and _tickling_ each other, _Christ_. Ste's honking out more of those laughs and Brendan's cheeks hurt from sustaining the shit-eating grin on his face and it's so _stupid_ but they're both too far gone to give a fuck.

Ste was right, though. Ordinarily having a writhing drunk Steven Hay beneath him would have Brendan hard in no time, but they're too drunk and tired for that now. Eventually, Ste flops on his back, submission clear in his body language, and Brendan flops beside him.

A few minutes of laughter-laced heavy breathing later and Ste is rolling over to make himself comfortable on Brendan's chest. One of Brendan's hand strokes down the curve of Ste's head before wrapping around the back of his neck. _This_ is right, just perfect –

No.

Not perfect.

Too much has happened for this to be perfect. Perfect isn't real, perfect isn't attainable. The innumerable layers of abuse, the lying and the threats, drug addiction, control issues, bruises and blood, prison, prison _again . . ._

Brendan is all busted and broken and Ste is dangerously fragile, but they're strong together. Strong isn't perfect, strong isn't necessarily indestructible, but strong is _secure_. Every time they break apart, they inevitably knit together again. It hurts sometimes, but busted bones always heal stronger.

“Love you,” Ste mutters just before planting a wet kiss on Brendan's collar bone. Brendan is positive that he's going to wake up with a hangover and an uncomfortable patch of drool on his shoulder courtesy of Ste, but he'll be alright with that.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging his finger tips up and down the back of Ste's neck. “I love you, too.”


	6. + 1

It's kind of weird, right, how you pick up other people's habits the more you hang around them. For Brendan, it's more down to speech patters and vocal things like echoing that stupidly fond _awww_ when it comes out of Ste's mouth. He's louder when they fuck now, too, like he got tired of Ste making all the noise somewhere along the line.

For Ste, it's more tactile things. He's started drinking whiskey like he never poked fun at Brendan for it before. Sometimes, when he's absorbed with paperwork for the deli or listening to someone else talk, he'll do the _hand thing_. Brendan didn't even really realize he _had_ a hand thing until Ste started doing it, too.

And as for the other habits, _well. . ._ Some things are best left unsaid. There's one, though, that Brendan never expected.

They're getting dressed for a wedding – one of Ste's friends is getting hitched and Ste _insists_ that Brendan come along as well. Brendan thinks it's a stupid idea, and he's ready to come up with some excuse to get away, but Ste knows just how to get under his skin.

“It's gonna be a big dressy event,” Ste says, walking up behind Brendan and wrapping his arms around his middle. He perches his chin on Brendan's shoulder, swaying a bit as Brendan mumbles about not giving a fuck. Ste bites his lip and flutters his eyelashes for good measure even though Brendan can't see it, and puts on his best innocent voice as he says, “I hear there's gonna be loads of fit blokes. And you know I _love_ a man in a suit, me.”

Brendan's shoulders slump, and he admits defeat.

So here they are, standing in their bedroom the afternoon of the wedding trying to get dressed. Ste's got his shirt on and Brendan's got his pants on, and together they almost have a full outfit. Ste is trying to get dressed, bless his heart, but Brendan isn't letting him get far. Every time he buttons up his shirt, Brendan pops the top few buttons and drags it down to kiss at Ste's shoulders.

“Bren,” Ste giggles, trying to shrug Brendan off of him, “We're going to miss the wedding at this rate.”

Brendan doesn't have the heart to say _that's the point_. So instead, he keeps kissing along Ste's neck. When he starts to suck a mark right next to the Adam's apple, Ste pushes him off for real.

“Alright, that's enough,” he says, pacing away from Brendan and buttoning his shirt with a sense of finality. “Wouldn't do to show up to a wedding covered in love bites, would it?”

“I don't see the problem.”

“Course you don't,” Ste says, and tosses a shirt at Brendan. “Now finished getting dressed, alright?”

Brendan complies, shrugging a shirt on and tugging a pair of socks on. He's about to grab his jacket when Ste throws something at him. It's a tie, solid black, and it matches the one Ste's struggling to knot right.

“Uh-uh,” Brendan says, and tosses it back. Ste lets out a huff as he catches a face full of silk.

“You wear suits without ties all the time,” he says, “If you show up like that, it don't look special, now does it?”

“Steven, I hardly know these people,” Brendan argues. “I don't _have_ to look special.”

“Well you're my date and I say you do,” Ste says, and loops the tie around Brendan's neck before turning to fight with the knot of his again. Brendan sighs and stands up, gently turning Ste to face him again.

“Let me do that,” he says, and unknots the mess Ste's made.

“Only ever done this a few times,” Ste says sheepishly. “Prefer the clip-on ones, me.”

“I won't have my _date_ wearing a cheap clip-on tie,” Brendan says, finishing the knot and smoothing the tie down.

“How come you're so good at that if you never wear ties?”

“I've worn enough to remember how it's done,” Brendan says. “It's like riding a bicycle.”

“Can't imagine you on a bicycle,” Ste grins, and Brendan swats him playfully on the bottom.

“Couldn't imagine myself willingly going to a strangers wedding a few years ago,” he grunts, “But here I am.”

“I hope you're more enthusiastic for _our_ wedding,” Ste teases, and Brendan's heart skips. They joke about the prospect of marriage enough, but Brendan is wondering who will have the balls to ask first. They're still treading on unsteady ground, though. Brendan isn't afraid of the possibility of rejection so much as he's afraid of fucking everything up.

So it looks like they're just going to have to let everyone else have the fun for now. They show up to the wedding with just enough time to spare without being considered rude. Ste is practically bouncing in his seat when the bride walks down the isle. All Brendan can think about is what kind of booze will be at the reception.

Turns out it's cheap, which is to be expected, but Ste wastes no time getting buzzed. Brendan is happy enough to sit back and watch Ste dance with everybody who can keep up with him. The only man he dances with is the groom, and Brendan is surprised at the complete lack of hostility he feels.

Must be getting soft.

But then Ste staggers over to him and grabs both of Brendan's hands, and _like fuck_ he's going to give into this.

“No, _no_ ,” he babbles, even as he lets Ste drag him to his feet. “I'm not dancing, Steven.”

“Pretty please?” Ste pouts, fucking _pouts_ , lower lip pushed out and eyebrows drawn close. He sways in and out of Brendan's personal space before deciding to push up on his tip toes so their foreheads touch. “Just one dance with your lonely, neglected man?”

“ _Jesus Christ_ , fine,” Brendan's sighs, and Ste's face breaks out into a grin. Ste is about as graceful a dancing partner as a three-legged puppy on roller skates, but Brendan can't find it in himself to complain. He begrudgingly sways whichever way Ste drags him at first, but gives way to actual dancing when Ste begs to be twirled. Then it's a free for all of waving limbs and off-key singing.

He feels like an idiot, but fuck it. Everyone here is well on their way to getting shitfaced anyway. And it's hard to stop when Ste is grinning at him like that.

Toward the end of the song, Ste goes from flirty to slutty in zero seconds flat. Brendan makes the mistake of stealing a kiss, and Ste takes it as in invitation to wrap his arms around Brendan's shoulders and shove his tongue down Brendan's throat. Ordinarily, Brendan would be more than okay with this turn of events. He's pretty sure there are children present, though, and if Ste's going to get like this then they're going to need a bed and lots of lube, both of which are absent.

Thankfully, the song changes to something slow and sentimental, and Ste seems to decide it's not the best tune for drunken exhibitionism. He lets Brendan drag him away as the crowd morphs into a slow-dance. Brendan takes his seat and pours a glass of whatever the fuck he can get his hands on. He thinks Ste is going to wander away again to find another dance partner, but he's taken by surprise when Ste unceremoniously dumps himself in Brendan's lap.

“That your champagne?” he asks, reaching for the glass and downing it before Brendan can even answer.

“I was gonna drink that, you little shit,” Brendan says, curling one arm around to support Ste's back. He drags his hand along Ste's thigh just because he can.

Ste hums happily. “Can't have you getting pissed though, you gotta drive me back home.” Brendan is about to say something when Ste adds, almost as an afterthought, “Back to bed.”

Time to go.

“Getting late, don't you think?” Brendan asks, and Ste turns his slightly flushed face back to Brendan to nod.

They say their goodbyes. Ste gives the bride a huge hug while Brendan struggles to remember the groom's name. Then they're wandering out to the car park with Ste belting song lyrics into the darkness and Brendan trying to reign in his stupid grin.

Only once does Ste offer to give Brendan road head, but that's probably because he spends most of the ride fiddling with the radio and grinding his palm into his own erection. When they get back, Ste tumbles into their flat singing some shitty pop song and giving Brendan a nice shimmy and an over-exaggerated come hither motion. Brendan indulges him with an arm around the waist.

“You're in a mood,” he observes, and Ste just shrugs.

“I love me a good wedding,” he says. “Especially when I don't get hit by a minibus.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Brendan warns, but Ste just wraps his arms around Brendan's neck and grins.

“Alright, no more talk about near-death experiences.”

“How about no more talk period?”

“Nah,” Ste says, “I know you like me loud.”

“Speaking of, don't we have some business to attend to in the bedroom?”

“Why move to the bedroom,” Ste pouts, “When we got a perfectly good table right here.”

“Lube's in the bedroom,” Brendan says and Ste lights up.

“Bedroom it is then,” he beams. “Fancy carrying me?”

“You got legs,” Brendan says, squeezing Ste's arse, “Use them.”

“ _Brendan_ –” Ste begins to whine, but Brendan shuts him right up when he scoops Ste up and tosses him over his shoulder. Little fucker weighs next to nothing, but it's still an awkward hold. Brendan nudges the bedroom door open, giving Ste's arse a smack when he starts wriggling.

Ste bounces a bit when Brendan drops him down on the bed, but he doesn't have time to make any smart remarks before Brendan is wrestling with his pants. Ste lifts his hips in an attempt to help, and Brendan latches his lips onto the first patch of bare thigh that he sees.

“Someone's keen,” Ste giggles.

“Yeah,” Brendan mutters between kisses, “Watching your dancing all night will do that to a man.”

Ste scrunches his nose up and laughs. “Weirdo.”

“Don't see you complaining,” Brendan says, finally dragging both pant legs off and peeling down Ste's boxers. “Fuck, you're gorgeous.”

“Brendan,” Ste whines, “I can't get it undone.”

Brendan looks up to see Ste fruitlessly tugging at his tie. Fuck the tie. Brendan gets a handful of the shirt and tugs it out from under the tie, and Ste thinks that's good enough judging by how starts fumbling with his buttons

“Roll over,” Ste says once he finishes, and shoves Brendan harder than he should be able right now. Brendan lets himself fall on his back as Ste crawls to straddle him.

“Someone's bossy tonight,” Brendan says, even as he drags Ste down for a hard kiss.

“Maybe I'm just tired of you eye-fucking me all day and not doing owt about it,” Ste challenges.

“Well, I'm not going to be able to do much fucking with my trousers on, now am I?”

Ste takes the hint and shifts backwards to drag Brendan's trousers and boxers down in one motion that has Brendan thinking that maybe Ste's not as drunk as he thought. Ste leans down and sucks marks all across Brendan's hipbones before kissing along his cock.

“As much as I'm enjoying this,” Brendan breathes, “I wouldn't mind speeding things up a bit.”

“Hmm?” Ste hums, pulling off of Brendan's cock. “Oh, right.”

“Come here,” Brendan says. When Ste moves up to kiss him, he just turns his head away and says, “Closer.”

Ste looks confused for a minute before it registers, and he hastily crawls up Brendan's body until Brendan's head is in between his thighs.

“Turn around,” Brendan says, and Ste awkwardly shuffles until he's just about sitting on Brendan's face and leaning across his body. There are a couple of giggles bubbling up in his chest as he tries to situate himself right.

“This is a classic,” Ste says, but the joke dies on his tongue when Brendan's tongue circles his hole.

“Remember all those times I've said you talk too much,” Brendan says, biting at Ste's cheek.

“Shut up,” Ste grinds backwards. “You love it.”

When Brendan told Ste to face the other way, he did it with the hopes that Ste would take the initiative and keep sucking his cock. Ste is perfectly fine the way he is, though, arching his back and grinding his hips down. Selfish little shite.

Brendan keeps tongue fucking him, nipping at his skin occasionally and getting him nice and wet. It's not quite enough, though, not yet, so he pulls back a minute to tell Ste to get the lube. Ste takes it upon himself to bend over to the bedside table while trying to keep himself firmly situated on Brendan's face. He nearly tips over off the bed, and Brendan can't help but laugh.

“Get off of me,” he says, giving Ste a parting smack on the bottom. Ste springs over to the bedside table and pulls out the lube, but he doesn't let Brendan have it. Instead, he moves to straddle Brendan's dick again and uncaps the lube himself.

“Ah, no touching,” he says, pushing Brendan's wandering hands away and squirting a liberal amount of lube onto his own fingers. Then he reaches behind himself and pushes a finger in.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Brendan mutters, digging his fingernails into Ste's hips. Ste doesn't waste any time spreading himself open. He looks obscene like this, shirt open and falling from one shoulder, tie still hanging loosely from his neck, a faint pink blush covering his chest and cheeks. Ste gasps when the third finger moves up inside of him, and Brendan wonders what the fuck he did to deserve someone like this.

Ste doesn't even let Brendan help when it comes to his own goddamn dick. Instead, Ste gives him a few stokes with a lubed-slicked hand and sinks down on his own. His mouth falls open once the head of Brendan's cock breaches him and stays open as he stretches down to the root.

“Alright up there?” Brendan teases. Ste answers by rising up and fucking himself back down hard. It shocks the smugness out of Brendan and transfers it to Ste instead. Ste repeats the motion again and again until Brendan has to brace his feet on the bed and dig his fingers into the flesh of Ste's thighs. With each motion, Ste's tie drags along Brendan's chest where his own tie is lying askew.

They don't care for ties when they're fucking, not for the _neck thing_ at least. They tried it once, but they both admitted that they liked Brendan using his hands a lot more. It felt to clinical, too detached. Besides, nothing looks as nice around Ste's throat as Brendan's hand.

But when Brendan reaches up to grab Ste's throat, his hand gets smacked away. He thinks that means that Ste just isn't in the mood for that tonight, but then Ste takes him by surprise. He grasps Brendan's jaw as he rocks up and down, moving it to curl two fingers in Brendan's mouth.

Brendan at sucks them greedily, but Ste doesn't let him enjoy it for long. He pulls his fingers back, trails them down Brendan's chin, and –

 _Oh_.

Brendan gasps as soon as he feels the hand curling around his throat and considers shoving Ste off of him, growling _don't fucking touch me_ like he would have years ago. This is powerlessness, this is handing his life over to someone and letting them do whatever they want with him. Part of him is terrified, but another stronger part of him is curious.

Ste doesn't press down, so Brendan doesn't try to move him. He rolls his head back, showing Ste that he's okay, he can _handle_ this. Ste doesn't seem concerned with choking him so much as using his grip on Brendan's throat to ground himself as he fucks back and forth on Brendan's cock.

“Thank you,” Ste breathes, voice high and airy. Brendan doesn't know what the fuck he's being thanked for, but he nods anyway. The hot pressure of Ste's hand feels less suffocating now. Brendan bites his lip and focuses on that sensation. This is _Ste_ , Ste wouldn't hurt him, Ste only helps him.

Brendan jerks his hips up and it takes Ste by surprise. He yelps and shifts so that his face is stuffed in Brendan's neck alongside his hand and his arse is in the air. Brendan takes the initiative and starts thrusting up hard. Ste lets all sorts of noises spill out as Brendan hammers up against him. At some point, he moves up so that he can claw at the buttons of Brendan's shirt. To be honest, Brendan forgot he was wearing the damn thing. He's probably sweated through it by now, but he doesn't care as Ste rakes his fingers through coarse chest hair.

His hand is still on Brendan's neck, thumb stroking softly in stark contrast to the roughness of Brendan's thrusts.

“You can't keep this up all night,” Ste moans.

“Don't have to,” Brendan pants. “You're gonna come soon, anyway.”

“Oh,” Ste laughs, “That so, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Brendan says, shoving upwards into a sitting position and dragging Ste against his chest. Ste squawks and lets go of Brendan's throat in favor of wrapping both arms around his neck. The pang of regret in Brendan's stomach is quickly forgotten about when Ste starts to bounce in his lap.

“If I'm gonna come, you gotta come with me,” Ste says, “Okay?”

Brendan breathes out a laugh. “Don't think it works like that.”

Ste grunts as Brendan starts jerking him off almost in time to his erratic thrusts downward. “Well,  _make_ it work.”

“Bossy,” Brendan mutters, and bites at Ste's bottom lip. Ste gasps and groans and jerks in his lap, and it isn't long before Ste is shooting all over both of their chests with a startled cry.

“No fair,” he whimpers even as he writhes in Brendan's arms. Brendan just grins like he won a prize. Ste gets a stormy look about him as he shoves Brendan onto his back and rides him fast and hard, hand resting just above the hollow of Brendan's throat when he makes Brendan come, too.

“So _there_ ,” Ste says, like he got his way by making Brendan come. Brendan just laughs again.

“Christ, you're a piece of work.”

“Er, what's that supposed to mean?” Ste asks.

Brendan goes quiet for a moment and just looks up at the mess he's made of Ste. The tie is loose enough now that he can probably just loop it over Ste's head. The shirt can hardly be considered on anymore, with the sleeves bunched up at Ste's elbows. The sweat is probably keeping it from slipping completely off, too. They're both a mess of sweat and come and god knows what else.

“It means I love you,” Brendan finally says, and Ste's eyes go soft.

“Awww,” he says, and Brendan shoots back with his own _awww_. “You're just saying that.”

“Nope,” Brendan leans up and gives Ste a quick kiss. “I don't hand out _I love you's_ to just anybody.”

“Then how come you won't marry me?” Ste blurts out, and the way his face goes red makes Brendan think he didn't mean to say that.

“You haven't asked,” is all Brendan can think to say.

“So then, will you marry me?”

Brendan is a little stunned in confusion. “Is this you asking?”

“Well it were a question, weren't it?”

“You're drunk, Steven,” Brendan says, trying not to grin.  
  
“I'm not though,” Ste gives Brendan a shove. “I'm just a little buzzed.”

“Yeah, and a little covered in body fluids,” Brendan shuffles away to get off the bed. “I'm gonna get us a towel.”  
  
Ste scoffs. “You're ignoring the question!”

“I'm not discussing this with your dry come on my belly,” Brendan calls from the bathroom.

“I think this is the perfect time to discuss this!”

“Course you do,” Brendan mutters to himself. “Now let me see you.”

“Uh-uh, let me do you first,” Ste says, snatching the wet cloth and getting the worst of it off of Brendan before wiping himself down.

“We both been married before,” Ste points out, tossing the filthy cloth in the vague direction of the laundry basket and moving to peel off the remainder of their clothes.

“Yeah,” Brendan sighs, letting Ste drag his shirt off, “And look at how well that turned out for us.”

“That's cause it weren't with each other, right,” Ste argues.

Brendan heaves a sigh and drops back onto the pillows. “I'm an old fashioned guy, Steven. I like my proposals done right.”

Ste looks lost. “So, if I got you a ring, alright, and got down on one knee –”

“Let me take care of the ring,” Brendan says, closing his eyes. “Unless you really want to instead.”

Ste is quiet for a moment. Part of Brendan is terrified that he already fucked everything up somehow, but then he feels Ste's lips pressing soft kisses all over his face.

“Alright,” Brendan says, failing to fight off his stupid grin. “That's enough.”

“Uh-uh,” Ste kisses Brendan, catching his upper lip and probably a fair amount of hair, “I'll never have enough of you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brendan grins and drags Ste down to lie next to him. Ste moves to cup Brendan's neck, but doesn't stop kissing wherever he can reach until Brendan mimics his position and kisses Ste back. They mirror each other almost perfectly like this. Brendan can feel Ste's thumb rubbing circles under his jaw at the same time that his own fingers brush at the short hairs on the back of Ste's neck.

Brendan knows he's going to wake up with his thoughts weighed down by the inevitably of an engagement. He going to wake up to Ste's eyelashes fluttering and Ste's morning breath fanning across his face and Ste's big dopey grin when he remembers everything from tonight.

And honestly, he can't fucking wait.


End file.
